"Canadians are just people who were born in a country called 'Canada'." That was all he was going to say on the matter, anyway. To him, it seemed silly to compare any of the human races to the halloween ones; they were as different as night and day. "It's not my name. It's Ripley." He did, however, store information on this...Pachua's...name and type. It was nice to have someone so chatty and less violent.
"I don't mind." Which was true. "I prefer to listen." Ripley wasn't much of a speaker himself; left to his own devices, he would avoid talking at all, with anyone. He was quiet as he thought things through, his amber eyes searching the snake boy's. Then, finally, he straightened, and the sword he had been holding, vanished.
"I'm one of the nicer ones. My friend would have killed you one word in."
endejester
